


Juggling

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22028581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis works.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 12
Kudos: 110





	Juggling

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

His pen slips, dragging the tail end of his signature far lower than it should be. Ignis hurriedly lifts the pen and shudders, eyes sliding shut and head tilting back. He leans over his desk and grits his teeth, trying to get his bearings, trying to _breathe_ ; he needs to concentrate. He’s the royal advisor. The king’s own right-hand man. He can’t afford such petty mistakes. He represents the crown, and he must do so perfectly. He carefully slides the paper away and pulls the next one into place. He finds himself skimming instead of reading and forces himself to take in every word. He crosses out a line, meaning to make an amendment. But instead he shivers and gasps. He leans back in his chair and groans, “Your Majesty... _please_.” 

He gets no answer. The closest thing is a well of suction around his cock and the loving caress of a warm, slick tongue. He can feel Noctis’ lips stretched wide around his base, Noctis’ nose nuzzling into his stomach. Ignis hisses, “Noct... _stop_.”

With a wet popping noise, Noctis obliges. He slides back, letting Ignis’ hard shaft slip out of his mouth, and the cold air is an unpleasant shock to Ignis’ burning skin. He’s drenched from base to tip. Ignis swallows and tries to regain some equilibrium. He needs to do his pants back up. 

Noctis remains where he is, horribly in Ignis’ way, kneeling between his spread thighs underneath his desk. It doesn’t help that Noctis is fully dressed in his best suit, his cloak trailing down his broad shoulders, his dark hair lightly tousled like it always was when he was younger. He teases in a scratched-raw voice, “Now you’re ordering your king around? I expected better of you, Specs.”

If Ignis had the wherewithal, he’d roll his eyes. It would figure that the one time Noctis actually uses his title, it’s to toy with Ignis. Noctis leans in to give Ignis’ leaking head a chaste peck and purrs, “I also expected you to handle this better and get more done... and to think, you’re normally so good at multitasking...” Ignis has a lot of well-developed skills. Working while his lover sucks him off isn’t one of them. He frowns down at Noctis, who asks, “Won’t you at least _try_? For me?”

That just isn’t fair. Ignis lets out a ragged sigh and begrudgingly agrees, “Yes, Your Majesty.” He can never really deny Noctis anything. In some ways, obliging Noctis, giving in to Noctis’ strange games, _satiating_ his king in any way is what turns him on the most. He’s incredibly hard from the image before him, from seeing his beloved king kneeling for bit, but also from the dynamics of the act: of living out one of Noctis’ lewd fantasies. The blow job itself is mind blowing but nothing compared to the thought of pleasing Noctis. Ignis is the one that gets a warm mouth around his dick, but Noctis’ satisfied smirk shows who’s really winning.

That’s just how Ignis wants it. He shudders as Noctis envelops him again, and he straightens up as best he can, returning to work. When he comes only five minutes later, he can only hope that Gladiolus won’t notice the bizarrely wobbly writing on his paycheck.


End file.
